


The Hope of Fusion

by fictorium



Category: Supergirl (TV 2015)
Genre: F/F, Femslash, Fluff and Crack, Multiple Pairings, Susan Vasquez: Super Stud
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-27
Updated: 2017-04-27
Packaged: 2018-10-24 18:14:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,732
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10747131
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fictorium/pseuds/fictorium
Summary: Susan Vasquez is a desirable woman. Lots of women desire her, it turns out. So why shouldn't she enjoy that?Happy birthday to my lovely letter-writing partner @BridgetteIrish, with whom it's always a delight to headcanon, and if we ever get to writing all those AUs for you, it'll be a damn pleasure.In the meantime: enjoy your Susie, darling. Everyone else does.





	The Hope of Fusion

**Author's Note:**

  * For [BridgetteIrish](https://archiveofourown.org/users/BridgetteIrish/gifts).



> Title from Aimee Mann's 'Susan'

Susan knows the green glowing walls don’t affect her, _shouldn’t_ affect her, but she feels a shiver regardless every time she enters the cell. So far Agent Danvers has been handling the interrogation, which is fine by Susan. She’s not one for talking their prisoners to death, and god knows when something is personal to one of the Danvers, it ends up becoming the business of the whole DEO.

“General?” The prisoner is always afforded the respect of her rank. “I’ve brought your evening meal, and if you’re willing to cooperate, I can arrange for some shower access in the next 30 minutes.”

“Which one are you?” Astra uncurls from the uncomfortable bench, in that feline way of hers. From what Susan understands of Kara, and the files they’ve amassed on her cousin, discomfort isn’t something that affects these almost invulnerable Kryptonians. That’s without the overpowering effects of the kryptonite though; sure enough, Astra stretches as she stands, leaning muscles fight off cramp and bones click slightly with her movements.

“Agent Vasquez,” she replies, realizing a moment too late that she’s staring. It’s hard not to stare at that slender figure all in black, the white streak in her hair too eye-catching to be ignored. “I guess I’m your tour guide for your stay at Casa DEO.”

“Bien,” Astra answers, which is more effort to speak Spanish than any of her colleagues have ever made. Susan makes a note to let the showers actually run hot for this particular prisoner. She’s in something of a good mood.

It’s only when they reach the shower block, Astra with a simple cuff on one wrist and one ankle to keep her subdued, keep her almost human, that Susan notices the closeness of her attention.

“Tell me, Agent,” Astra commands, and Susan straightens her posture instinctively. An order sounds like an order, no matter the source. “How loyal are you to this… DEO, exactly?”

“Completely,” Susan answers, because it has the benefit of being true.

“So there’s no bribery, no _seduction_ that could make you see the merits of my cause? Take a stance against your masters?”

“They’re not my masters,” Susan said through gritted teeth. “And I’m not interested in being corrupted, thank you.” Why did she feel like saluting as she said it.

“Well, then.” Astra looked her up and down as though making some final assessment. “That makes you quite worthy, Agent Vasquez. Why don’t you join me in the shower?”

“General?”

“No reason I can’t still seduce you, isn’t that correct? I’m quite curious how it will all work with near-human physiology, I confess.” 

This is the moment to run. To slam an alarm pad somewhere on the wall and refuse to be played. But the General is a damn fine-looking woman, and even with those two cuffs it takes no time at all to peel off her black clothing, leaving her quite stunningly naked in front of the shower stall. She strips with the ease of a professional, and Susan’s hands are on the hem of her regulation black polo shirt before she can think better of it. The only hesitation is to shoot out the surveillance camera on the edge of the space. It will be easy to claim a warning shot went astray.

“Well, in the interests of science,” she agrees, advancing on Astra as the beckons for Susan to join her. A jab of her elbow turns the water on, and it isn’t quite clear who pulls who beneath the spray. “Will you be taking the lead, General?”

“Yes,” Astra muses, her lips seeking out Susan’s. “I rather think I will.

***

“And then,” Alex groans, sinking her second bourbon. “She rejected me!”

“Okay, back up,” Susan demands, waving the bartender away when he spots the chance for a refill. “So you’re saying that you finally know you’re gay?”

“What does that mean?” Alex peered at her from between the fingers of her hands covering her face in embarrassment.

“It means you may have been a little late to the party, that’s all. Ma’am.”

“Don’t ma’am me in a bar, Vasquez.”

“No, ma’am.”

“You knew I was a lesbian?” Alex whines. “And you didn’t tell me?”

“We all get there in our own time,” Susan says. That sounds pretty wise. She squares her shoulders and tugs gently at Alex’s wrist, lowering her hands from that pretty, confused face. “But if you need a crash course…”

“Oh. _Oh._ I didn’t want to assume… you know what they say, even if someone is gay, it doesn’t mean they’re into you.” The bartender made it back to Alex this time, but she ignored him, suddenly more interested in the conversation than drowning her sorrows. “And well, I’ve heard stories about you, around the DEO. You’re kind of a legend, Susan Vasquez.”

“If that intimidates you-”

Alex leans in with the spark of a challenge accepted in those gorgeous brown eyes. “Do I look intimidated?”

“Can I get you another drink?” Chivalry, Susan knows, doesn’t need to be dead. 

“Why don’t we take them over to one of the booths?” Alex suggests, fixing Susan’s collar, which was already professionally starched and not even slightly out of place. “You can tell me more about this crash course.”

Susan signalled for two fresh bourbons. Sometimes patience really did pay off.

***

“You don’t say much, do you?”

“Ma’am?”

Cat Grant isn’t exactly the model protectee, but Susan adjusts the strap on her rifle and snaps to attention all the same.

“The strong, silent type?” Cat tries again. “Only if I have to wait here in this glorified panic room, one which hasn’t even been stocked with a bottle of wine let alone real alcohol, I’d appreciate a little company. Supergirl didn’t even tell me your name before she flew off.”

“We don’t give out our names as a matter of routine, ma’am,” Susan replies. “I can make one up for you? If you’d like.”

“You’re not the sister,” Cat muses, moving across their limited space and hoisting herself up on the counter that’s the only surface besides two bunks on the opposite wall. “And clearly you’re not the Lane that got away. What if you gave me just your real first name? Mine, by way of trade, is Catherine.”

“Not exactly a leap from Cat,” Susan pointed out. “But fine. It’s Susan. It shouldn’t be too much longer, and then I can take you home.”

“That sounds… promising.” No mistaking the note of flirtation. “But I bet you say that to all the girls.”

Susan does, actually. Safe return of a protectee is a serious part of her duties. But honestly she’s on something of a streak lately, even if Alex did end up going off to that cop with some of Susan’s best tips and tricks in her arsenal. She sees her opportunity, and takes it.

“No, just the ones who own empires. Ma’am.”

“You know I’ve fired people just for using that word.” Cat beckons, and what is it with that lately? Susan’s beginning to think she might have a type. Powerful, dramatic, or just a little messed up. “From you? With that good soldier routine? I don’t mind it. Yet.”

Always good at following orders, Susan steps forward until she’s standing just between Cat’s parted thighs. Parting them required considerable hiking up of the world’s most form-fitting pencil skirt, one that’s been distracting Susan for the past hour or so. That distraction was nothing compared to the sight of pale skin and perfectly-toned thighs. 

“You mentioned company?” Susan tries. “I thought you meant conversation.”

“But you don’t say much,” Cat reminds her. “So let’s use that initiative of yours. How else can you put that mouth to use, _Susan_?”

She gets on her knees, already knowing she’s supposed to keep the kevlar and weaponry in place for this part. It turns out, before long, that Cat’s more than vocal enough for both of them.

***

It’s not just swagger that lets Susan finally get up the last bit of courage. It really helps that all week Kara is in _adorable_ _badass_ mode, roaming the DEO in the daytime to compensate for her lack of real job. There are only so many crises it turns out, and while everyone else has more than enough work to do, Susan has a certain efficiency that gives her free time whenever she needs it most.

So when Kara swings by the armory, cape swishing and leather boots squeaking just a little to announce her arrival, there’s no particular task that Susan has to be occupied with. She sets aside the guns she’s been cleaning, and turns her full attention on the Girl of Steel. Word around these corridors is that Kara’s a little jealous of her sister’s adventures in Ladytown, and now that the unfortunate manchild has been tossed aside like the Hollister-wearing garbage that he is, there’s an open field when it comes to Kara.

“Looking for something to do?” Susan asks, the very picture of innocence. “Only you seem a little restless.”

“I am.”

“That must have you wound pretty tight, huh?” It’s so easy to take the lead when it comes to Kara. Powerful enough to wreck the planet if she sets her mind to it, but gentle enough to wait for direction instead. Susan lays a friendly hand on her shoulder. “You should be careful with that. All that tension leads to mistakes. To things bubbling over when you least expect it?”

“What can I do?” Kara practically wails. “It’s not like I can just go box for an hour like you guys do when the job is getting you down. Or get wasted and lose a couple of days either.”

“Isn’t there any kind of exertion that works on a Kryptonian? Anything that might give you a real workout, let it all out?” Kara blushes, and looks down at the floor. Bingo.

“Trouble is, I seem to be all out of partners for… that. And you know, I never really meet people. Not people who know both sides of me, who understand that I’m not just… one thing.”

“I understand,” Susan says, voice dripping with sympathy. “People look at you and they assume, don’t they? Human, nice, straight… but there’s much more to it that that.”

“Exactly!” Kara is looking at her now, nodding in that way that makes her long blonde curls bounce. Not quite the way Cat’s did, that was more of a jerky movement in the end. This is more slow-motion running on the beach and damn if that isn’t something Susan would kill to see right about now. She settles, instead, for backing the most beautiful woman on any two planets against a blank space on the armory wall. 

“Let’s work out some of that tension,” Susan suggests. Kara responds with a kiss more explosive than any device in the room. It’s definitely one for Susan’s personal Supergirl file to discover that Kara does in fact float when she’s excited enough. 

***

“Hey,” Susan greets M’gann while taking a seat at the bar. “I’ll take a Bulleit if you’ve got it?”

“Don’t start that with me,” M’gann warns, but she reaches for the bottle all the same. 

“Start what?” 

“I hear the rumors about you, Vasquez. You’re getting quite the reputation.”

The glass is placed in front of her. M’gann waves away the offered cash. “You must be thirsty. First one’s on me.”

Susan considers it, for a long moment, but she wants to be able to keep drinking here. It’s just that M’gann is so damn compelling, not just because she’s gorgeous but because of how she handles herself in a dangerous profession. Keeping bar shouldn’t get more dangerous than running out of ice, but this isn’t just any bar. Then again, M’gann isn’t just any woman. So Susan returns once, twice, drinking her drinks and chatting to M’gann about the few topics she isn’t guarded on, until three weeks have gone past and suddenly that list of topics is growing and growing.

“...anyway,” M’gann finishes, having paused only to serve something green and sticky to some Reticulans. “That’s why I picked this place. It’s not exactly the Four Seasons, but it has its charms.”

“Dinner,” Susan blurts. “I mean, would you like to have dinner? Even you must have a night off.”

“Wednesdays,” M’gann answers, with only a moment’s pause. “I was wondering when you’d get around to it. Thought that reputation as a stud was all made up for a while there.”

“It’s not,” Susan promises, leaning across the bar. “But I think this could be something a little more, don’t you?”

M’gann shrugs, as though she has no interest one way or another. But just as Susan is about to lean back, M’gann darts across to kiss her on the cheek. It lands sinfully close to the corner of her mouth, and Susan sighs in contentment. 

“I’ll see you Wednesday,” she promises. 

***

It’s a birthday cake in the end, that ruins it. The flickering heat of the candles and the way M’gann recoils. It’s only a glimpse, but Susan knows a White Martian when she sees one. There are things in this job she can overlook, facts she forces herself to unlearn. Four months of the best company, sex, and conversation she’s ever had comes to an end that night. It’s a fight that’s been brewing, but in the end Susan has to be able to look J’onn in the eye, and there’s no excuse she can make that will make this okay.

They part as something less than friends, which hurts more than anything. Susan goes back to drinking at the hole in the wall that DEO agents have made their own. She drinks too much, too often, until the feeling like she’ll split apart gradually recedes to a dull roar.

“You’re slacking, Vasquez,” says a chipper but stern voice when she’s catching her breath between pull-ups. Hangovers have meant fewer workouts, and there’s a lot to catch up on. Susan stands up fully to see Major Lucy Lane staring her down, hands on her hips in tiny shorts and a khaki shirt that still proudly bears the faded letters of ‘ARMY’. 

“Didn’t realize you were back, ma’am,” Vasquez gasps, forcing her breathing to regulate over the next few breaths. “And I’m not done yet.”

“I should hope not,” Lucy tells her. “I heard you had a rough one. Don’t let it affect your job, you hear me? I’ve got plans to steal you for my taskforce.”

Susan nods. A change is as good as a rest, so why the hell not?

“See you at Command post later,” Lucy says as she parts. Susan’s too tired to watch her as she goes. 

After a shower, she’s dressed and ready for her shift. With a nod to Alex as she finishes for the day, Susan takes her usual station. There’s an energy bar and a to-go cup of coffee that smells like heaven. One sip confirms it’s her go-to, so someone has been paying attention. Only when she’s at the last mouthful does she catch Lucy watching, fond smile on her face. There’s a moment, febrile and delicate between them. The first to look away could return it to nothing more than professional courtesy. Instead, Lucy winks, and Susan realizes she might be back in the game after all. 

“Damn,” she sighs, propping herself up against Lucy’s headboard 12 hours later. “I was swearing off women for a while.”

Lucy crawls out from under the sheet, a wicked grin on her face.

“I’m not just any woman, am I?”

“No,” Susan has to concede, accepting a kiss that lasts a good long while. “Won’t this make things weird on your taskforce?”

“I think we’ve just proven how well we work together, don’t you?” Lucy falls back against the pillows. “Let’s just play it by ear. I’m not looking for serious, you know.”

Six months later, when Lucy’s proposing on bended knee, Susan can’t help repeating those words back to her. But she’s crying when she does, the words giving way to ‘yes’ whispered seven times over. 

And okay, the bachelorette party gets a little too rowdy when everyone gets drunk enough to start swapping Vasquez stories, but when morning finally dawns Susan has never been more sure she ended up with exactly the right person. 


End file.
